


The Long Way Home

by tommygirl



Category: Alias
Genre: F/M, Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/pseuds/tommygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post series, Sydney doesn't believe her father is gone, but isn't sure she should keep searching either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Way Home

There was this story that Sydney used to make her father tell her over and over again when she was little. It involved pirates and a kidnapped princess and a father that would always come for his daughter. Sydney would hug her father and say, “I know you’ll always come for me, daddy,” and she believed it.

Even when they were estranged from one another and her father was more of a mythical figure than an actual dad, Sydney held firm in her belief. Her father was larger than life, even before she knew exactly how true that was, and there was nothing he couldn’t do.

So when she insisted that her father was alive, that he wouldn’t just give up and die when he was _needed_ , she knew how crazy it sounded to everyone else, but she couldn’t believe anything else.

“Syd, it’s been a year. It’s time to let this go,” Vaughn finally said one afternoon, coming up behind her on the deck of their beach house.

She inhaled the salty sea air and leaned back into Vaughn’s embrace before replying, “I can’t give up on him, Vaughn.”

“He’s gone, Syd. Even if you were able to locate the spot again, you’d only be excavating dead bodies.”

Sydney stiffened at the thought. She couldn’t imagine her father as anything less than the man who always protected her, even when she didn’t know what was going on. Yet, on some level, she knew Vaughn was right. She had her own life, her own child to protect, and she couldn’t keep going off on wild goose chases on the lucky chance that maybe her father was out there somewhere. But practicality was quickly swept aside by the memories of those stories her father had told her as he had brushed his fingers through her hair and told her that he would always be there.

“I can’t give up on him, Vaughn. He never gave up on me,” Sydney replied.

Vaughn sighed, smiling. “I figured as much. I tried though, right? Did my husbandly duties to try to keep you safe?”

Sydney laughed. “I’m too stubborn to be talked out of anything.”

“Very true,” he said, his arms wrapping around her from behind. He squeezed her and said, “And you know I’m with you on this.”

Sydney turned around to face him, cupping his face in her hands, silently thanking God or whatever all-powerful force that had spared his life, and said, “Yeah, I do. It’s why I love you.”

He kissed her, his hands sliding up her back and into her hair, pulling her tighter against him. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “I love you too, and I want you to be happy.”

Sydney shook her head, “I am happy, Vaughn. I am. I love you and Isabelle more than anything in this world; but he’s my father…and he’s out there somewhere. I know it.”

“I trust you, Syd, so wherever you’re going, I’ll be there.”

She kissed him quickly, pressing her hands into his chest with a grin, “Even if it means pulling babysitting duty?”

“Isabelle and I have a routine.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yeah. It keeps us both from missing you too much when we can’t be there with you.”

***

“I’d like this better if I was with you,” Vaughn’s voice echoed in her ear.

Sydney ducked her head and replied, “I can handle a meeting on my own.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sydney walked down the small Parisian street with a confidence she didn’t particularly feel at the moment. Everything in her gut told her that a meeting like this was a fool’s errand; that Julian Sark wasn’t a worthwhile source, and she was probably walking into a trap. Still, she couldn’t deny that the photos he had sent her were compelling information and it was her last lead. She couldn’t give up on her father. Not yet. Not until every rock had been turned.

She entered the café on the corner and took a seat at one of the outside tables in the corner. She pulled out a newspaper and dropped the copy of Pride and Prejudice on the table as she had been instructed to do. She studied the area and said, “Any sign of our friend?”

Vaughn’s voice came through her ear piece again and said, “Not yet...wait...he’s at your 3 o’clock, Syd.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“Like I’d be doing anything else,” Vaughn replied.

Sydney smiled, but it quickly faded as Sark approached her table with his normal swagger. She wasn’t sure how a guy who had managed to get himself caught so frequently could have such a huge ego, but there it was.

“Hello Sydney.”

“Sark.”

He slid into his seat and waved a waitress over. “I’ll have a cup of coffee. Black. And you?”

“Not thirsty.”

“You really should try it. In all my travels, this place remains the undefeated champion in the coffee market.”

Sydney leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Interesting, but no.”

“Very well. Just one cup,” Sark replied. Once the waitress disappeared, he dropped a few of the photos on the table and said, “I have to say that I’m a bit surprised you showed up given our history.”

“I figured if you tried anything, I would shoot you,” Sydney stated. She fingered the photos, pictures of a man that looked just like her father, and said, “Where did you get these?”

“Not so fast. There was a price for this information.”

Sydney opened the cover of Pride and Prejudice, revealing a small box with an envelope in it. She slid it across to Sark and said, “The information you wanted. Though I can’t imagine why a guy like you cares about the ongoings of a charity organization.”

Sark smiled and said, “You’re slipping in your old age if you think I’m that easy to get information out of, Sydney.”

“Where did you get the photos, Sark? I’d hate to put a bullet in your head right here and disturb these poor people’s coffee.”

“An acquaintance in Copenhagen had some dealings with a man going by Jean Luc Rennet. He was looking for an arms dealer.”

“For what?”

“He didn’t offer the information and I didn’t ask.”

“Of course not. Not your problem.”

“Precisely. People like Sloane and your mother were believers, Syd. People like you and I, we’re in the game for other reasons.”

“Don’t compare us, Sark,” Sydney replied. She picked the photos up and said, “If I needed your acquaintance to set up a meeting, how would I get in touch with him?”

“I’ve already let him know to contact you.”

“What—”

“When it comes to the people you love, you are a completely predictable foe, Sydney. I knew you’d show up with the information and want a meeting.”

“Who is this acquaintance anyway?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“How will I know when he’s made contact then?”

Sark smirked. “Trust me. You’ll know.”

”And when will that be?”

“Whenever he’s ready.”

“Great.”

“You really think your father and Sloane survived?”

“Why? Worried your boss will be less than pleased with you?”

Sark scoffed and said, “Sloane never doubted that my loyalties were purely selfish.”

“A bad guy code or something?”

“Or something,” Sark replied. He sipped on his coffee and said, “Tell me, Sydney. If this man is your father, why hasn’t he been in contact with you?”

Sydney remained silent and Sark surmised, “Is it possible that he doesn’t want to be found?”

Sydney turned to walk away and Sark called out, “Give my love to that fool of a husband for me.”

Sydney rolled her eyes and said, “I’m sure it’ll make his night.”

As Sydney turned the corner, a white van pulled up along side of her. The door slid open and she hopped in, taking a seat next to Vaughn. She said, “Sark sends his love.”

“I really wish I could kill that guy.”

Sydney laughed and kissed him. She said, “Looks like we’re heading home for the time being.”

***

“I think this is a bad idea,” Vaughn whispered from the doorway of Isabelle’s room.

Sydney brushed her hand over her daughter’s cheek and turned off the small light. She moved past Vaughn and once in the hallway, replied, “I have to see this through, Vaughn.”

“Fine, but not like this.”

“Sark’s contact said he can arrange a meeting with Jean Luc, but I only have a twenty-four hour window to show up.”

“And that makes sense to you?”

“None of this makes sense to me, but what choice do I have? There is a meeting in Prague that I need to be at.”

“No, you don’t, Syd. This could be a set up.”

“That’s why I called Dixon. He’s going to meet me in Prague,” Syd replied.

“Syd…”

“He could be my father, Vaughn.”

“Then why hasn’t he made contact with you? Why is he going by an alias and doing business with arms dealers?”

“Sark asked me the same question,” Sydney replied with a mirthless laugh. She turned around to face Vaughn and said, “And I don’t know the answer, but that’s why I’m going. To try to find out what’s going on and figure out what really happened to my father.”

“Maybe it’s time to let him go, Syd.”

It wasn’t the first time that Vaughn had made that suggestion and she knew he only said it because he loved her, worried about her and this crusade she was on, but the words stung all the same. He didn’t understand. Her father always came back for her. He would slay dragons and climb towers and always be there. It was the Jack Bristow way.

She took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears, and said, “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“And what will you do if this lead doesn’t pan out? How long is this going to continue, Syd? Our daughter needs both her parents,” Vaughn replied. He placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke gently, “I know how much you love and miss your father. I know you wanted him to be a part of our daughter’s life, but he’s gone.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Syd…”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Vaughn. I barely understand it myself, but I just know, okay? He’s out there somewhere and I’m not sure why or if he’s hurt or what...but he would never give up on me and I can’t give up on him.”

Vaughn wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and kissing her shoulder and neck.

“If this lead doesn’t...if it’s another dead end, I’ll stop for awhile. I’ll focus on us and our family,” Syd replied. She kissed him, pulling back to look into his eyes and smiled. “I promise.”

He smiled and kissed her again. He whispered, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

***

Sydney and Nixon stood on the small bridge watching the throngs of people passing by and looking for any sign of their contact. They had run into a small amount of trouble with some locals and Sydney was worried that they had missed their chance for the meeting. She remembered her promise to Vaughn and fought to keep herself calm and in control. She couldn’t let her guard down. She had to make it home to her husband and daughter. They needed her.

“It’s been twenty minutes, Syd. This dealer might not be showing up.”

“But…what if the man is my father?”

“Then he doesn’t want to be found for a reason,” Dixon replied. He patted her arm and said, “If Jack is alive and he hasn’t made contact, there must be a damn good reason. And us showing up here…what if he isn’t ready to be found?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my father. Why would he hide from me?” Off the look on Dixon’s face, she sighed. “Okay, so he would do it if he thought it would keep me safe, but—”

“— _but_ whoever this man is, he isn’t showing up today and we have a flight to catch in a few hours.”

Sydney turned to face the water and stared down at it for what felt like hours. She wiped the tears that fell away from her face quickly and said, “I miss him.”

“I know.”

“He was my dad. The only family I had left.”

“You’ve got your daughter and Vaughn to think about now, Syd. You need to put them first.”

“But what about…”

“If your father is out there, he’ll find his way back to you.”

Sydney nodded. Dixon was right. If her father was alive and hiding from her, there was a reason for it. She might not like those reasons, might think he was being an overprotective, stubborn old man, but the same things about her father that always drove her crazy were the same things she loved most.

“You don’t think I’m crazy? That I just haven’t let go?”

“I think that those photos and the small amount of Intel we managed to gather on this Jean Luc makes for an interesting lead.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I honestly don’t know what to make of all of this. Your father was convinced that you hadn’t died in that fire and we all thought he was unable to accept the truth. Turns out he was right, so I’m going to wait on offering my final opinion on the subject for a bit longer.”

“But?”

“You’ve been at this for almost a year now, Sydney, and the one good meeting you’ve set up doesn’t appear to have showed up. It might be time to focus on the rest of your life and let this play out like it was meant to.”

She glanced around the area again. The thing about stories, Sydney was realizing, was that the endings weren’t always as easy as the princess being rescued and living happily ever after. The real world didn’t work that way. And if the princess’ father thought the only way to protect the princess was to leave her to her own abilities, Sydney had to trust that.

She said, “Let’s get out of here. I have a husband and a daughter waiting at home for me. I want Isabelle to know that I will always come back for her.”

 _{Fin}_

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to Hedda for the beta! Written for the Alias Ficathon for the request of _Sydney/Vaughn with a meeting, a story, a good cup of coffee_


End file.
